


dear lover

by stungun



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crushes, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Jealousy, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-02-23 02:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23770951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stungun/pseuds/stungun
Summary: "You know, King. I kind of hope Hinata keeps getting these letters,” says Tsukishima with a snide grin. “Just so I can keep seeing you make that face.”“Shut the fuck up, Tsukishima.”Or: when Hinata starts receiving a barrage of love letters from boys from their school, Kageyama tries his best to keep Hinata all to himself.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 46
Kudos: 497





	1. to hinata shouyou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, chen here! thanks for picking up my first work in this fandom :") it's been a while since my last work on ao3 heh but it's quarantine season and that means i have a lot more time to do stuff like this! hope everyone's doing well!
> 
> side note: there are mentions of random characters that don't appear in hq-verse whose sole purpose is to give hinata love letters and therefore have no personality or backstory. HAHA
> 
> that being said, i hope you enjoy reading this!

In retrospect, Kageyama should’ve seen this coming.

Hinata Shouyou is, in all senses of the word, attractive. He has wrists so delicate that Kageyama had worried they would break if he tried to receive a spike too strong, wrists that would look particularly good pinned roughly against a stone wall. Hinata’s hair, bright and loud and messy, is soft and easy to comb his fingers through, and glows when struck with the warmth of a sunset; it’s the kind of hair Kageyama thinks he wouldn't mind tugging on. His skin, where he’s been kissed by the sun’s fervour, is tan and freckled and striking, but when his shorts hike up a little too high during practice, Kageyama likes to relish in the smooth ivory skin stretched across his firm thigh muscles and think about what it’s like to bruise it. 

At the same time, Hinata is short, much shorter than what most would consider the ideal height for a high school boy but of the perfect size to be tucked into Kageyama’s chest. He’s whiny and demanding and complains too much when he doesn’t get what he wants but Kageyama finds himself giving in every time Hinata begs for a toss with big sad eyes. He’s loud, way too loud but Kageyama thinks it’s unsettlingly quiet when his ears aren’t assaulted with Hinata’s boisterous laughter. In every way that Hinata is _not_ supposed to be attractive, Kageyama swoons anyway. 

Kageyama knows this, he knows that Hinata is attractive in a way that would only appeal to horny adolescent boys at the height of puberty. Hinata Shouyou was built to be loved by boys.

So it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that Kageyama’s not the only one.

Right after they beat Shiratorizawa at the Spring Interhigh Preliminaries, just as his and Tsukishima’s popularity with girls skyrocketed, Kageyama began to notice another irritable trend. It starts one afternoon in their clubroom after a particularly draining training session, innocuous and unassuming like a small drizzle on a sunny day. The first-years are given the responsibility of locking up the gym and clubroom and are changing out of their sweaty practice shirts when Yamaguchi speaks up.

“ _Ne_ , Hinata,” Yamaguchi begins, rummaging through his bag to find something. He fumbles about for a bit before fishing out something he wants to pass to Hinata. “Satou-kun from my class told me to pass you this.” 

At first sight of what Yamaguchi’s holding, Kageyama’s eyes widen with disbelief. A slightly crumpled cream envelope addressed to one Hinata Shouyou of Class 1-1 in a messy font. It doesn’t take a genius to know what Yamaguchi clasps between his fingers — the key to Kageyama’s eternal despair. Just kidding.

Except not really. 

In Yamaguchi’s hand, plain as day – there’s no mistake about it – is a love letter. But more importantly, it’s a love letter to Hinata. 

However, it takes their resident complete idiot a little more time to process the scenario playing out before his eyes, his mouth hangs open dumbly at the revelation. “Satou… kun?” 

Kageyama narrows his eyes at the envelope, trying as best as he can to inspect it from afar. _Satou_. He can’t conjure a face to match the name but judging from the almost illegible handwriting sprawled across the front of it and his past experiences with frilly pink love letters from girls, it’s from a boy. At the realisation, something unpleasant stirs in his stomach. 

“Eh?” interrupts Tsukishima with a smug grin. “Satou Tatsuya, huh? Who would’ve thought he batted for the other team?”

Ah, so Kageyama was right. It was from a boy. Some sick part of him kinda wishes Hinata would throw it on the ground in disgust and spit on it, if not for the sake of his own heart. 

“Tsukki! Satou-kun told me to keep this a secret so don’t go making a fuss about it in class!” berates Yamaguchi, to which Tsukishima merely clicks his tongue in annoyance. Yamaguchi turns to Hinata and smiles apologetically. “Sorry, Hinata, I told him to pass it to you himself but he insisted on having me do it for him. If you want to find him, he’s from my class. Oh, and he’s also on the softball team.”

When Hinata receives the letter from Yamaguchi with both hands, he handles it like it’s the most precious artefact in a museum, stares at it with the same starry-eyed wonder Kageyama had thought was reserved only for volleyball, lips parted in awe. Moments like these are rare, where Hinata isn’t jumping or yelling or begging for another toss, where Hinata looks soft even under the dim yellowish light of their clubroom, where Kageyama is made painfully aware of his own yearning.

Kageyama’s fingers itch to reach over and tuck a stray strand of Hinata’s hideous orange hair behind his ear but he resists the lowly temptation and settles for digging his blunt fingernails into his palm, thickened from years of volleyball training. He tries to ignore the fact that the tingle in his spine and the prickle in his palms are the same unceasing itch he feels on the court as soon as the whistle blows. 

At first, Hinata is quiet, like he’s savouring the sweet gratification of acquiring a confession letter from someone he’s probably never even met, and then as if the realisation hits him in a second wave, he explodes. 

“GWAH! This is awesome!” Hinata exclaims, clutching the letter to his chest and leaping into the air in excitement. He’s nearly glowing with elation. “I’ve never gotten a love letter before!”

 _How?_ Kageyama wants to ask. How had Hinata, with all his endearing quirks and kinks, not gotten a single love letter in his sixteen years of existence? How had nobody else gotten blindsided by Hinata’s warmth and zeal and fallen in love with the embodiment of sunshine? How had Hinata broken through Kageyama’s defences so easily?

But he’s not nearly stupid enough to actually ask. In fact, he has to restrain himself from offering Hinata nothing but a petty ‘tch’. Fortunately, Tsukishima beats him to it. “How sweet, the love between morons is truly something else.”

At that, Hinata stumbles on a landing and turns to fix a glare at Tsukishima. “Let me have this, Tsukishima. You get confessions on the daily.”

“Eh? You overestimate me,” Tsukishima sneers. “I only get them weekly.”

Kageyama scoffs. Anyone who likes that stuck-up short-sighted stick on legs must only have confessed at gunpoint. After all, the only person with an attitude as pissy or even pissier than his is Tsukishima. “You’re full of shit, Tsukishima.”

In typical fashion, Yamaguchi opens his mouth to defend his best friend but Tsukishima stops him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be leaving first. Remember to lock up after yourselves.”

“Whatever.” With that, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima are gone, the door clicking behind them.

Just like that, Kageyama and Hinata are left in the clubroom all by themselves, the silence that’s settled around them anything but comfortable. Kageyama quickly pulls a fresh shirt over his torso and turns around to start a conversation, only to find Hinata still standing around half-naked. 

His gaze is fixated on the letter in his hands, slowly crinkling in his iron grip. It takes Kageyama every ounce of energy he has left in him to tear his eyes away from Hinata’s bare torso, all lean muscle and freckled skin. He vaguely registers that his cheeks are warm. 

“Idiot, what are you so slow for?” Kageyama finds himself almost yelling, startling both his teammate and himself. “We have to lock up.”

“O-oh right,” Hinata says apologetically, finally snapping out of his reverie and putting on his spare shirt. He quickly stuffs the letter into his bag and hurries out of the clubroom alongside Kageyama. 

On their way back, Kageyama considers bringing the issue up but decides against putting Hinata on the spot, especially if it means threading the fine line that threatens to expose his own feelings. His eyes trail over to the ginger-haired boy beside him, no doubt still thinking of the love letter in his bag, soft underneath the warm artificial glow of the street lamp. Kageyama’s heart lurches in his chest. 

It’s a while before Hinata speaks up, a strange lilt in his voice. “ _Ne_ , Kageyama, what should I do?”

Kageyama jolts. The answer is clear to him. _I like you, so you should reject it_. “Why’re you asking me? It’s your letter, do whatever you want with it,” he says instead, ignoring the way Hinata’s brows furrow at his response. 

“You’re lying.” 

When Kageyama stops in his tracks and meets Hinata’s gaze with his own steely one, he almost flinches at the fervid certainty in Hinata’s ember eyes. It’s like they see through him entirely. He grits his teeth. “I’m not.”

Hinata’s lips melt into an easy grin. “You are. After all, who’s going to play volleyball with you if I’m off on a date with someone else?”

 _Is it alright to be a little selfish after all?_

Kageyama huffs, turning away. “You’re not the only one I play with. I could always just ask, uh,” — he trails off, mind flitting through the volleyball club roster and eventually coming up with nothing.

The smugness radiating off the ginger-haired boy beside him sends a steady heat creeping up his neck. He doesn’t need to look to know Hinata has on his most shit-eating grin. “Eh, who’re you gonna ask, ‘Yama?”

The affectionate drop of his nickname comes so suddenly it short-circuits his brain. “I guess I’ll ask Tsukishima.”

At that, Hinata breaks into uncontrollable laughter, his familiar high-pitched giggles clear as wind chimes in the stillness of the night. As fondness envelops Kageyama’s heart in warmth, he allows himself a small smile. 

And it’s with this, the image of Hinata trying to stifle his laughter under a blanket of stars, that Kageyama tells himself that everything will be alright after all. 

-

It isn’t even a week later that he realises he’s dead wrong.

When Nishinoya bursts into the gym one morning with a wicked smile on his face, nobody reacts, save for Daichi’s monotonous “You’re late”. They’re used to his loudness, his heart-attack-inducing dramatic entrances but nothing’s prepared Kageyama for what’s about to come. If the incident in the clubroom a week ago was a drizzle on a sunny day, then this would be looming clouds and the smell of rain: a brewing storm. 

Nishinoya’s gaze sweeps across the gymnasium, narrows in on a mop of orange hair on the other side of the gym and glints dangerously. His grin widens and before Kageyama knows it, he’s breaking into a sprint towards Hinata, screaming “Shouyou!” at the top of his lungs. 

He lunges at his unsuspecting _kouhai_ and they both topple onto the ground in a heap. Their bodies are pressed together in a tangle of limbs and all of a sudden, the deafening beat of Kageyama’s heart in his ears is almost too much to bear. Distantly, he can hear Daichi yelling out a string of complaints at them as they slowly get up, dopey grins plastered on both their faces.

But Kageyama’s eyes aren’t watching the way Nishinoya grips onto Hinata’s waist or how they slot into each other’s side perfectly, they’re trained on the dull-looking envelope clutched in Nishinoya’s hand as he helps Hinata to his feet. The rush of emotions he’d suppressed a week ago punches him in the gut with full force. 

“Congratulations, Shouyou! Your favourite _senpai_ has come to deliver your first ever confession letter!” Nishinoya announces proudly as if he was the one on the receiving end of the letter. 

At Nishinoya’s declaration, everyone’s ears perk up with curiosity, and Daichi does not move to make everyone continue with practice. Not that Kageyama expects him to, not when their seemingly most inexperienced teammate’s about to break out of his shell for the first time. (The first-years know better than that.)

“Thanks, Noya-san!” Hinata beams and graciously accepts the cursed envelope from Nishinoya. He’s making the same face he did the first time, all awestruck and dazed, though he doesn’t bother correcting Nishinoya. 

He scans the front of the envelope with wide, innocent eyes. “Shiro Yugi?” 

As if everyone hadn’t already been waiting with bated breath, the silence instantaneously becomes thicker, and Kageyama’s spit turns sour on his tongue. _Another boy._ He strains to remember where he’d heard that name before when Tanaka rips the silence apart with a shrill cry. “Shiro Yugi?! The second-year ace of the basketball team?”

 _Ah_. Kageyama’s gut twists painfully with realisation as he watches Hinata’s eyes grow wider with curiosity and wonderment. 

“That guy’s one of the most popular guys in school,” Sugawara comments off-handedly like he doesn’t notice Tanaka turning redder by the second. How sly. “Even the girls in my class talk about him.”

At the mere mention of girls, Tanaka flares up expectantly, an angry flush now staining his cheeks hot red. “Eh?! What’s so good about him? Just because he’s an ace, he has girls all over him? We’re the ones who beat Ushiwaka! I bet this Yugi’s just a poser. Ain’t he, Noya?”

Kageyama sighs inwardly. It’s not uncommon that Tanaka, fuelled by petty jealousy, flies into one of his frenzied rants in the middle of practice sessions, though it _is_ rare that Kageyama finds himself asking the same questions too. He knows that he has nothing to be jealous about, that there isn’t one person in the world who could take away what he and Hinata share, but jealousy tastes bitter in his mouth all the same. 

“Ryu, I hate to tell you this, but Yugi is cool. He’s way cooler than the both of us combined,” – cue Tanaka’s affronted squawk – “but none of that matters now that he’s taken,” Nishinoya declares triumphantly, chest puffed up with pride. He turns to Hinata smugly, “By our sweet _kouhai_ here. You’re absolutely welcome, Shouyou.”

With that, in the blink of an eye, as if Nishinoya’s words had finally severed the thread of silence pulled taut by the awkward tension stifling the gym, everyone explodes simultaneously, bursting into idle chatter about the possibilities between Hinata and his new boyfriend. 

Tsukishima passes by Hinata and sneers at him. “It seems there are more dumbasses in this school attracted to stupidity than I thought.”

Hinata bristles. “You’re mean, Tsukishima.”

“But I’m right.”

Before Hinata can retort, Tanaka grabs him by the shoulders. “Say, Hinata, you’ll accept, won’t you?”

“Yeah, Yugi’s super cool! He’s the ace of the basketball club and he has the best grades in class! If I were you, I’d accept it,” Nishinoya continues, like he’s a salesman trying to sell a product, except the product is a high-quality boyfriend complete with good looks, good grades and popularity and the customer is Kageyama’s first-ever crush about to be stolen in front of his eyes by some NPC. “No homo though,” Nishinoya adds as an afterthought.

Being cornered by two crazed _senpai_ , Hinata looks like an animal of prey cowering in fear. He attempts to placate them, “Thanks, Noya-san. I-I’ll think about it.”

Kageyama doesn’t even realise he’s making a face or that Tsukishima and Yamaguchi have appeared by his side until Tsukishima speaks up. “You know, King, I kind of hope Hinata keeps getting these letters,” says Tsukishima with a snide grin. “Just so I can keep seeing you make that face.”

Yamaguchi looks at Kageyama apologetically.

“Fuck off, Tsukishima,” growls Kageyama. Those are the first words he’s uttered since the start of this whole debacle and they’re going to be his last. He can’t watch this anymore. 

“Oi, Hinata, dumbass!” he yells, to which everyone in the gymnasium turns towards him curiously. “Spike my tosses.”

In an instant, Hinata detaches himself from Tanaka’s vice grip, stuffs the letter into his pocket and bounds over to Kageyama like an obedient puppy. Just like that, as if Kageyama had broken a spell, Daichi is back to keeping everyone in order. “Settle down, everyone. We’re here to play volleyball, not write a tabloid.”

Everyone quietly obeys and continues where they left off with practice but judging from all the small glances stolen at Hinata throughout practice, there’s a question on everybody’s mind: will he accept the confession or not? Hinata’s probably too stupid to realise that everyone else is practically itching to know his answer so Kageyama, ever so altruistic, decides to intervene before everyone pisses their pants trying.

After Hinata delivers a particularly bad spike, Kageyama scowls at him. “Stop being distracted, dumbass.”

Hinata glares back at him indignantly. “I’m not.”

“You are,” Kageyama says. “It’s about the letter, isn’t it?”

With that, he knows he’s gotten everybody’s attention. 

Hinata’s cheeks flare up, with embarrassment or annoyance Kageyama can’t tell, though he decides he likes when Hinata blushes bright red. “It isn’t. Stop it, Kageyama.”

“Shiro Yugi won’t toss to you on the court, you know,” Kageyama says pointedly. It’s the most obvious thing in the world, yet it seems like everybody else in the gymnasium needed a reminder.

“I know that, stupid,” Hinata says, a smile pulling at his lips. He catches Kageyama’s intent gaze, embers burning bright. “You’re my setter.”

Other than Hinata, of course. 

The resounding sound of a distant smack is enough to tell him everyone’s gotten the note, including Nishinoya and Tanaka who tackle him at the end of the day to demand meat buns.

The storm passes, and the uneasiness stirring in his gut settles but doesn’t go away.

-

Kageyama doesn’t see the first strike of lightning until the thunder is deafening in his ears.

They’re supposed to meet for extra practice during lunch break. Kageyama’s already by the Second Gymnasium waiting for Hinata when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

 **dumbass hinata** [11:02] sorry kageyama, something came up and i can’t meet you for lunch :( see you during training! i’ll make it up to you!

 _Ugh_. He should’ve known Hinata would cancel on him, probably for some stupid reason like extra English lessons. 

He’s shuffling past the narrow alley between the classroom block and the First Gymnasium when a movement in the dim pathway catches his eye. Kageyama figures it’s another one of those pointless love confessions and scoffs, opting to ignore the soap opera going down in the alley.

Then he hears it, Hinata’s voice, like a single ray of light penetrating the murky fog of doubts clouding his mind. Immediately, almost as if on instinct, he turns towards the alley and trains in on the mop of outrageously bright orange hair, lit like a flame in the dancing shadows. It takes him another second to notice the other person standing in front of Hinata, a head taller than him and trapping him against the wall.

Kageyama’s feet take off on their own, his instincts set on fire. Overwhelming jealousy thunders in his ears and there is nothing but one thought in his mind: Hinata Hinata _Hinata_. Before he knows it, he’s already by their side. There’s an ugly clump of emotions wedged in his throat, burning with an intensity that sends his head spinning, and it takes him every last bit of restraint not to drive the other guy’s face into the wall. 

“K-Kageyama! What are you doing h–” Before Hinata’s given the chance to ask Kageyama any questions, Kageyama’s hands are already clasped around Hinata’s wrist and towing him out of the alleyway. 

The other boy moves to stop Kageyama but he draws his hand back as soon as Kageyama snarls at him. “Get lost. He’s _my_ spiker.”

“Let go of me, Kageyama!” Hinata struggles against his grip but Kageyama doesn’t budge and continues trudging forward until they’re back to the Second Gymnasium. When he lets go, Hinata draws back his hand so quickly that Kageyama has the audacity to feel a bit hurt. 

Only for a second though.

“Do you have time for this, Hinata?” Kageyama snarls. Hinata flinches at the venom dripping off Kageyama’s tongue. “Are you satisfied with our win against Ushiwaka?”

 _Excuses_ , his subconscious tells him. He knows exactly why he feels like that and Hinata's lack of practice isn't it.

“You know I’m not!” Hinata bites back, his hurt amongst other emotions so evident that Kageyama startles. His face is carved into a glower, soft features clashing against hard edges, and it’s with his expression, with the fiery determination in his eyes alone that Kageyama realises with a jolt he should apologise. 

But he’s stubborn. And he’s jealous. 

And just those two are enough to fuel the fiery rage simmering at the pit of his stomach. “Then what were you doing in that alley? You said something came up!”

Kageyama winces at how his words ooze with jealousy bordering on possessiveness but he can’t be bothered to care about what Hinata thinks right now. He just needs Hinata to _listen_. “We barely made it past Shiratorizawa and we’re not going to go anywhere near the top if you’re going to keep hanging out with people who won’t help you get there.”

“I was _rejecting_ him, you fucking asshole!” Hinata nearly screams, his eyes red and glassy with tears that threaten to spill out. His face is contorted into a messy expression that drives a sword into Kageyama’s heart and Kageyama _yearns_. He yearns to pull Hinata into a hug and keep him there so he won’t have to make that expression ever again. 

Except Hinata’s only like this because of _him_.

“You think I haven’t noticed how prickly you’ve been these past two weeks?” Hinata continues, his voice breaking. A tear escapes and slides down his cheek. “I know you want to climb to the top but _so do I_ , and so does everybody else on the team. I can handle my issues by myself, I don’t need you to keep poking around in my business.”

Now that the boiling rage has somewhat evaporated and his head is clearer, Kageyama is at a loss for words. He hadn’t meant to make Hinata cry or make him hurt. He just wanted... he just wanted–

What was it that he wanted? 

He chances another full look at Hinata. Hinata with his watery doe eyes and furrowed eyebrows, Hinata with his freckled cheeks dusted red with anger and sadness and all the bad emotions Kageyama had forced into him, Hinata with the way his shoulders curled into himself defensively. Just then, every single overwhelming emotion warring inside Kageyama’s head over the past two weeks slams into him like a freight train, knocking the breath out of his lungs. 

That’s right, he’s known all along. He wants Hinata.

He firmly wraps his arms around the shorter boy and pulls him close. Hinata stiffens in his embrace and applies a slight pressure against Kageyama’s chest as if trying to escape his grasp.

It isn’t until Kageyama buries his head into Hinata’s ginger locks and whispers “I’m sorry, please don’t hate me” that the other boy gradually relaxes in his hold and snakes his arms around Kageyama’s back.

“It’s okay, Kageyama,” Hinata tells him and it sounds like a lullaby. “We’re best friends, I could never hate you. Let’s reach the top together.”

In that moment, it doesn’t matter how close Kageyama holds Hinata to his chest. 

Because he can’t hear Kageyama’s heart shatter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading the first chapter! kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!
> 
> the second chapter will come in the following week or so, so stay tuned for updates! :)


	2. from kageyama tobio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! thanks for sticking around for the end!
> 
> also i apologise for the weird timeline, this turned out way longer than i'd anticipated HAHA

_Best friends._

Just like anything that concerns Hinata Shouyou, Kageyama writes it off like it doesn’t mean anything to him at all. In fact, if anything, he should be glad that the ball of sunshine considers Kageyama his _best_ friend out of all the friends he’s made with his bubbly disposition. He’s won such an important place in Hinata’s heart with nothing except his shitty personality and mood swings, he should be happy about it.

But of course he isn’t satisfied with just that. 

Along with his realisation that he probably has to do more than glare at Hinata and wag his paw from time to time to woo the oblivious fool comes the horror of remembering they’ll be going to Nationals soon, and he isn’t so much afraid of facing bigger, better opponents (he’s actually quite excited) than he is of facing the possibility of Hinata catching the eye of those same opponents in the locker rooms. He has to act fast.

He wagers a try during one of their lunch breaks together.

“Do you want to date?” Kageyama says off-handedly, trying his utmost to play it cool.

Hinata splutters, choking on a sausage octopus his mom packed in his bento, and turns to Kageyama with wide, frenzied eyes and a blush riding high on his cheeks. Kageyama blinks in confusion. He doesn’t know what he’s said to make his counterpart this flustered until Hinata swallows the remnants of his food and stammers incredulously, “You?!"

It quickly dawns on Kageyama the implication of the question he asked. _Do you want to date_ me _?_ He quickly swivels his head away from Hinata’s all-knowing gaze, feeling heat crawl up his chest and neck. “N-No, you dumbass! I mean like, do you want to date in high school? Full stop. Question mark, whatever.” _God, he’s so flustered._

Only when Hinata settles back into his place beside Kageyama does Kageyama feel it’s safe to look his way again. He’s still watching him with big curious eyes, the aureate in them glinting in the harsh mid-noon sunlight. It’s a while before he speaks again, “I’m way too busy with volleyball to bother with things like dating.”

There he goes again, saying things that ruthlessly crush Kageyama’s heart without even noticing. It’s as if his answer tips a bucket of cold water over Kageyama’s spine, sending a wave of relief and disappointment coursing through his veins. Relief that Hinata would never date any of the horny adolescent boys that approach him at school or at Nationals, disappointment that Kageyama is, unfortunately, a part of said horny adolescent boys and that means Hinata would never date him either. 

Stupid feelings. Stupid Hinata. 

“How about you, ‘Yama?”

Stupid nickname. In spite of himself, Kageyama’s heart leaps in his chest. He doesn’t quite remember when or why Hinata started calling him that. 

(Except he does remember every single excruciating detail. How could he forget?

It was just another gruelling study session at Hinata’s house and they’d been mulling over the same math question for way longer than they should’ve. A plate of cut fruits, kindly delivered by Hinata’s mother a while ago, sat at the edge of the table though papers were sprawled over the rest of the table mercilessly. 

Then out of nowhere, just as Kageyama was about to have a breakthrough (kidding), he heard Hinata whisper, “‘Yama.”

Kageyama’s head shot up so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash, only to be met with the sight of Hinata’s head buried in the stack of papers before him as if he hadn’t just called out for Kageyama out of the blue.

Or maybe he hadn’t and Kageyama was quite literally going crazy. His heart pounded loudly in his chest; he didn’t quite mind the nickname but had he really imagined it? Judging by the way Hinata bit the backend of his pen in concentration, Kageyama was very inclined to believe that he was just being delusional. 

It vaguely occurred to him that Hinata might be calling _Yama_ guchi and not Kage _yama_ but he didn’t quite think Hinata would be calling out for their teammate in this situation. 

Then it came again, a little louder this time, like he was testing out the nickname, rolling it off his tongue like it was nothing. 

This time, Kageyama was sure Hinata was just trying to test his patience. He looked up again, only to find Hinata humming an off-key tune. _This little shit_. 

“What do you want, dumbass?” Kageyama barked. 

Hinata had the audacity to look confused. “Huh?”

“Don’t act dumb. You’ve been calling my name.”

Just then, Hinata’s expression eased into a wide grin, sending a pang of _want_ straight into Kageyama’s heart. “It’s cute, isn’t it? I’ve been thinking, shouldn’t we have nicknames for each other?”

 _Like a couple_ , Kageyama found himself thinking. 

“Since you’re my best friend, I’ll let you call me Shou-chan,” Hinata continued, ever so oblivious to the 9999 damage he’d just dealt to Kageyama’s poor heart. An instant KO. 

_Shou-chan?_ His cheeks never turned this hot this fast in his life. There was no way he’d ever be able to call Hinata _Shou-chan_ without turning into a fucking tomato. 

“Shut up,” he muttered as they both delved back into their textbooks, his mind still reeling from their conversation. 

Just for now, he let himself think about _Shou-chan_ and Hinata’s blinding smile and filed _best friends_ into the back of his mind.)

“Hello, Kageyama?” Hinata’s voice snaps him out of his reverie. He’s pouting. “Answer my question too! It’s not fair that only I had to answer.”

_Do I want to date? Yeah, you._

“Same as you,” Kageyama answers gruffly, trying once again to avoid meeting Hinata’s eyes, just in case he can see through his thinly veiled lie and into his heart. 

Hinata doesn’t drop the pout. “You just copied my answer!”

Kageyama merely shrugs him off. “You always copy my answers.”

“This is different!”

“It isn’t,” Kageyama says it like it’s final and Hinata sticks his tongue out childishly.

As the conversation lulls, they settle into comfortable silence and Kageyama is more than happy to return to sipping his box of milk and avoiding another interrogation from Hinata. But a question claws at his throat and his self-restraint aren’t enough to stop himself from blurting out, “Do love letters make you happy?”

Hinata’s inquisitive gaze returns. “I thought I told you to stop butting in,” he says like it’s a matter of fact, not a trace of malice in his voice. _Oh God, he just totally came off as totally desperate._

“I-I know that!” Kageyama says defensively. “I’m just asking it as a question.”

Hinata seems satisfied with Kageyama’s reply because he deliberates the question for a bit before answering, “Yeah, they do.”

Kageyama’s not sure what he expected. “Oh,” he says dumbly, feeling a bit stupid now. 

But then Hinata flashes him a thousand-watt grin and the dark cloud of doubt in his mind clears. “But nothing compares to the feeling of hitting a toss from Kageyama.”

 _Oh._ Kageyama wasn’t expecting that _at all_. Hinata’s answer and accompanying grin send a piercing shockwave throughout Kageyama’s entire body, lighting his every nerve on fire. _That’s right_. If there’s anything Hinata will accept from him without any question, it’s his tosses, and there’s not one person in the world who can take this away from them. 

He simply responds to his beaming teammate with a small smile.

Later, Kageyama finds that his tosses throughout the day are sharper, quicker than usual. When Tanaka pounds him on the back during afternoon practice and sings praise to his heightened performance, he catches Hinata’s smile in the corner of his eye. 

He decides this is enough for now.

-

When the rest of the team finally finds out about the sheer magnitude of Hinata’s popularity with boys in their school, they have a collective aneurysm. 

_They_ being specifically Tanaka and Nishinoya.

The sun hangs low in the sky and just a few of them are outside Ukai’s store getting ice cream after afternoon training when the conversation eases itself into the topic of love. Kageyama squirms with uneasiness, _this is dangerous_. 

“Suga used to get a lot of love letters in the day,” says Asahi wistfully, to whom Sugawara directs an indignant glare. 

“Don’t talk like we’re old men, Asahi.”

“Eh? But we are.”

Another glare from Sugawara shuts him up. 

And then Hinata asks an outwardly innocuous question, head tilted to the side in naivete. “Suga-san, what do you do with your love letters?”

At that, Kageyama stiffens by his side. The question seems to take Sugawara and the rest of their _senpai_ by surprise too because suddenly, everyone’s eyes are trained on Hinata, who – to their limited knowledge, at least – had only received his first love letter from the school heartthrob a little less than a month ago.

Sugawara blinks, no doubt trying to formulate the best answer for his impressionable _kouhai_ , and after a beat, replies, “I keep them in a shoebox at the back of my cupboard.”

It’s an honest, neutral answer and Hinata should accept it and leave it at that. He should smile and nod and go back to finishing his lime ice bar before it melts all over his fingers. He should _maybe_ just lean into Kageyama’s shoulder and peer up at Kageyama with glossy eyes just so Kageyama can bask in their delectable height difference – just a suggestion.

What he absolutely shouldn’t do is furrow his brows in thought and mumble, “Eh? Would they fit?”

But he goes and does it anyway.

The outburst is brutal. He’s immediately tackled by their two most hot-headed _senpai_ , who start grilling answers out of him from the spot. The third-years only watch the scene unfold with keen curiosity, making sure nobody gets too rowdy lest their coach storms out of the store to chase them away.

Kageyama had already been aware that Hinata was the object of many people’s affections recently but to have enough confession letters to fill – no, overflow – a shoebox? The revelation stings a little, knowing there are things Hinata doesn't tell him because of their little run-in not long ago.

Tanaka’s first question is already enough to tear away any semblance of sanity left in Nishinoya. “Say, Hinata, was that Shiro guy even your first admirer?”

Deciding he can’t bear to watch Nishinoya’s face crumble from dejection, Hinata turns away before answering in a small voice, “N-No.”

“Shouyou! How could you hide this from me? I’m your favourite _senpai_!” Nishinoya wails, taking the opportunity to pounce on Hinata’s back, which would annoy Kageyama if not for the little whine Nishinoya manages to draw out of Hinata. He catalogues that for later.

Tanaka only seems to take delight in his friend’s misery, cackling as he speaks. “The confession from that Shiro guy wasn’t even his first, you’re second favourite at best."

“Take that back, Ryu!” Nishinoya sobs, arms wringing tighter around the first-year’s neck. “Shouyou, I’m still your favourite, right?”

The third-years look ready to intervene but with things like this being a daily occurrence, it seems they never know when the team is play-fighting or actually out to commit homicide. These days, they’ll only butt in if Hinata turns purple. 

Hinata’s lips twist into a pained smile as he wheezes out, “Y-Yes, Noya-san. Now, will you please get off my back?”

His answer seems to be enough to satisfy Nishinoya because he hops off Hinata and delivers a hard thump to his back. “Anything for my favourite _kouhai_!”

Kageyama’s never been one too good at socialising with his team like this, all raucous laughter and violent whumps. He’s always been content just hanging around Hinata and only joining in the conversation when the topic inevitably landed back on volleyball. So he wordlessly shuffles back to Hinata’s side, all the while sucking on his milk bar in hand. 

“So how many do you have?” Nishinoya asks, eyes flashing dangerously.

Hinata hesitates then once again looks away to the side, the faint blush on his cheeks barely visible in the dimming afternoon sun. “I don’t know, I haven’t counted them.”

“And you turned all of them down?” Tanaka continues. 

“Um, yeah.”

The two of them exchange hysterical glances as if deciding if the boy before them was worthy of praise or admonishment. Slowly, Tanaka asks why.

“I want to focus on volleyball.” He says it like it’s an undisputed matter of fact, like they shouldn’t have felt the need to ask him that in the first place, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Kageyama smiles discreetly around the milk bar in his hand. _That’s his Hinata._

As if on cue, Daichi chuckles, “That’s our Hinata,” before making his way over to ruffle Hinata’s hair. Hinata leans into his touch like a touch-starved puppy, beaming like he’s struck gold. 

Envy fills him up all the way to his fingertips and they tingle with the urgent desire to tear his captain’s hand away from Hinata’s soft locks and comb his own fingers through them gingerly. These days, Hinata’s been testing his self-restraint a lot, threading on the fine line that threatened to snap with every leap he took and wearing his patience far too thin. 

(If this goes on for too much longer, he’s afraid his mental fortitude will splinter into a thousand pieces at one go and he’ll slam Hinata into the lockers and kiss him senseless.)

“Shouyou, do your _senpai_ a favour and introduce some of those girls to us, won’t ya?” Nishinoya grins craftily, which earns him a hard whack on the head from Daichi.

Hinata turns away, no doubt to hide the sudden redness in his cheeks. He’s been doing a lot of blushing these days. “Ah, but you see, t-they’re all from boys.”

The rest of the night passes in a blur; and if the rest of the milk bar falls to the ground with a pathetic plop as his brain works a mile a minute to process what he’s just heard, if Hinata chides him about it and offers him his ice bar without a second thought, if his heart does an involuntary double-flip in his chest, he doesn’t quite register it.

-

The events that happened after Hinata’s admittance that he’s been rejecting male suitors left and right for the past month without any of the rest of the team knowing is foggy. It’s like he’d downed the statement like a bottle of hard liquor and relied on his muscle memory to drag his spent limbs back home.

He knows he’s being a bit dramatic. It’s not like Hinata has accepted any of the love letters he’s received and it’s not like he’s been affected by those frivolous distractions. In fact, he’s been especially driven recently, motivated by some unknown force in his attempt to soar to greater heights (quite literally). Seeing Hinata in action (and every delicious sliver of skin he exposes in the process) is enough to spur Kageyama on but it’s when they’re not exerting themselves at practice that unwanted thoughts catch up to him and cloud his mind.

Gradually, every single one of his thoughts outside practice starts wrapping themselves around Hinata and how he can continue staying by his side without overstepping his boundaries as _best friend._ Gradually, his feelings swell until they come to a standstill.

It’s not until he pops by Class 1-4 one sweltering Monday afternoon to ask about some stupid prose in some stupid Japanese poem that he finally realises the world around him continues to spin even as his own slows to a stop.

Kageyama finds out Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are dating when he stumbles upon them kissing in their empty classroom.

It’s the kind of afternoon that’s hot and sweaty and perfect for _not_ pressing your warm body and lips against someone else’s, but his teammates have gone and done it anyway. Yamaguchi is shoved up against a table, caged in by Tsukishima’s lanky arms, his own wrapped around the taller boy’s head. Fortunately, thanks to Tsukishima’s big stupid head, Kageyama isn’t treated to the immediate sight of them locking lips, else he fears he might pass out from shock.

Maybe it’s project work, Kageyama’s subconscious tries. _Yeah, nope, they’re obviously kissing_.

He (very smartly) presumes he’s not supposed to have intruded on their privacy and turns to make a quick exit, praying fervently that they’re too caught up in their own business to notice Kageyama ever having been there in the first place. But:

“Hold it right there, Your Highness,” Tsukishima’s words cut sharply through the air like a knife. _Well, fuck._

Almost robotically, Kageyama takes his time to turn around and meet his impending death. He’s met with an unimpressed glare (Tsukishima) and a mortified whimper (Yamaguchi), though he quickly averts his eyes from Tsukishima’s calculating gaze. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under now. The tension in the air is thick enough to slice a blunt knife through and lodges in his throat uncomfortably.

“This is new,” begins Tsukishima, his voice dripping with poison. “So you’re a voyeur now.”

At that, anger bubbles in Kageyama’s chest and he returns Tsukishima’s hostility with a withering scowl. It’s not his fault they were acting like fucking cats in heat in their classroom of all places, all he wanted was help for Japanese Literature, he didn’t even ask to see this. “You’re one to talk. Get a room, or were you planning to fuck in the classroom?”

The intensity of Tsukishima’s glare rises at lightspeed as a still-pink-in-the-face Yamaguchi attempts to placate him with a small tug at his sleeve. Even though he’s overcome most of the embarrassment of having a teammate walk in on his boyfriend’s and his um… intimate affairs, he still positions himself behind Tsukishima’s towering figure.

“Tsukki, I don’t think–”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki!”

Kageyama wants nothing more than to get out of there but right now, Tsukishima’s face pisses him off to no end and he’s not in a particularly good mood, so he interrupts their lover’s spat with a sneer. “Are you always this rude to your boyfriend?”

“It’s none of your business, King,” Tsukishima seethes before directing a wily glare at Kageyama. “Besides, don’t you have your own boyfriend to worry about?”

 _Ouch_. The question alone feels like a punch to his gut, and he deflates, the annoyance slowly ebbing away. With his head a bit clearer, he mulls over the situation. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, the two first-years other than him and Hinata, are dating and he just found them making out in an empty classroom. Did he– did he retaliate so violently because he was jealous?

Kageyama must be making a face because all of a sudden, Tsukishima has closed the distance between them, the snide grin on his face positively gleeful.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. Did I hit a sore spot?”

Kageyama scoffs, trying to squash the bitterness tearing at him from inside. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tsukishima narrows his eyes disbelievingly. “Come on. You’re stupid but you’re not _that_ stupid. Everyone on the team already knows you cum in your pants every time Hinata walks into the room.”

Immediately, a hot blush shoots up Kageyama’s neck and bakes his cheeks red, both at the absolute dismay of realising the whole team knows about his embarrassing mega-crush on his idiot of a teammate and at the ‘cumming in your pants’ bit provided by Tsukishima. Attempting to regain his composure, he splutters, “I don’t cum in my pants when Hinata walks into the room.”

_Great. Superb, really. Couldn’t have been smoother._

He groans into his hands even before his teammates start howling in laughter.

“As enjoyable as it is to see you in pain, I’m really tired of seeing you perform your stupid mating rituals on that dense halfwit. You know he’s never going to get the signal,” Tsukishima says pointedly. “Just ask him out already. Mark your Queen, or whatever kinky shit you’re into.”

Kageyama lets out a squawk of protest. “I’m not into that.”

“Sure thing, _King_ ,” Tsukishima makes sure to drag out the nickname extra long, then lets out a bark of laughter. “Let’s go, Yamaguchi.”

When Tsukishima stalks out of the classroom, Kageyama’s left with Yamaguchi who looks at him with sympathy. “That’s Tsukki’s way of caring,” he says meekly.

“He’s a bastard.”

Yamaguchi merely shrugs.

“Look, Kageyama, you probably don’t need me to tell you this but you’ll never know until you try,” Yamaguchi says, smiling at him with kind eyes. He breaks off into a small chuckle before continuing, “I would never have guessed Tsukki liked me back if I didn’t tell him myself first.”

At Yamaguchi’s advice, Kageyama sets his lips into a thin line. Even he knows that much. If not for the risk of losing his best friend over his stupid feelings, he would’ve tried ages ago. He can’t even begin to imagine the fear Yamaguchi had to overcome in order to confess to that shitty Tsukishima, his childhood friend no less. He fidgets awkwardly, not knowing how to respond.

Yamaguchi seems to sense his distress because he lays a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder and tells him, “You know Hinata would never hate you for trying.”

It isn’t much, but it’s enough to make Kageyama’s heart skip a beat. For all the countless number of times he’s thought about Hinata rejecting his feelings, it's always been scorn, a disdainful gaze casting him towards the side. But Hinata… would never do that, and deep down, he’s always known that. 

That even if Hinata never returned his feelings, he’d only thumb away the tears from Kageyama’s eyes with a smile as fond as ever, that he’d cradle Kageyama’s head and whisper apologies in his ear until the both of them were okay again. 

That the only reason Kageyama’s never said anything until now is his immense cowardice and guilt-ridden past.

Back in junior high, he’d been ruthless in his own rejections, had cast every confession away with nothing but thinly-veiled scorn, discarded every love letter he’d received without sparing even a glance. Slowly, the steady stream of confessions trickled to a slow and eventually they stopped coming altogether, not that he cared much for them at all. To him, they were nothing but distractions in his desire to reach the top; while Oikawa was fooling around with girls, he would devote his time to surpassing him. 

In high school, with a new reputation and team to boot, his popularity surged once again and he started off following the same apathetic routine he did in junior high: flicking his admirers off his shoulders like they were nothing but dirt beneath his feet. When they asked why, he’d do nothing but offer a half-baked explanation and walk away from their sobbing forms.

But then in the form of an orange blur, something shifted and the world spun before his very eyes. 

And suddenly, for once in his life, he saw his reflection in hopeful eyes and the fear and anticipation that bloomed out of a love confession shook him to the core. He began to offer explanations teetering on the edge of discomfiture but more than that, his heart began to break with them. 

In his nightmares, Hinata wore a mask of disinterest, the one Kageyama had been wearing all this time, the one he’d so easily shattered with nothing but his stupid smile. But Hinata is nothing like Kageyama, he wears his heart on his sleeve, he doesn’t mask any of his guileless feelings. If anything, his warmth has thawed the ice and indifference in Kageyama’s heart and from there, planted a new sprout. 

“What are you two morons taking so long for?” calls Tsukishima from outside the classroom, irritation evident in his tone. At that, Yamaguchi quickly shoots Kageyama a sheepish smile and two thumbs-up before disappearing out into the hallway to join his boyfriend. Kageyama follows a few seconds after, only to find that Yamaguchi has caught up with Tsukishima at the end of the hallway. 

As he watches his teammates’ retreating backs and locked hands, as Tsukishima softens in Yamaguchi’s hesitant grip and turns to offer his boyfriend a smile, awkward but genuine nonetheless, a bud of hope blossoms in Kageyama’s chest for the very first time.

-

 **kageyama** [22:23] come to the back of the second gymnasium tomorrow

 **dumbass hinata** [22:30] for extra practice? :D

 **kageyama** [22:30] sure

 **dumbass hinata** [22:30] can’t wait!!! see you tmr!

-

The next morning, he receives a small letter in his shoe locker.

_Kageyama-san,_  
_Please meet me at the back of the second gymnasium during lunch break. Thank you._  
_Ozawa_

Wow, he must’ve murdered an entire village or committed some serious tax fraud in his past life because at this point, the universe is handing him a gun and begging him to kill himself. 

Kageyama stares at the letter in his hands, at the kittens skittering around the edges of the frilly pink paper. It’s been a while since he’s gotten one of these. A sick feeling of dread twists in his gut and he’s reminded once again why he ever expressed surprise at Hinata’s joy at receiving these things in the first place.

Ever since Hinata’s come into his life in a whirlwind of laughter, he’s never been able to look at a confession letter without feeling a twinge in his heart.

And to get one of these the day he planned a confession of his own. The way fate toyed with him like a useless ragdoll was maddening.

He doesn’t want to risk having Hinata meet the girl but with zero information on his secret admirer and no other option, he decides he’ll just have to be quick with his rejection and meet Hinata after. 

**kageyama** [08:18] oi dumbass come a bit later, i have to settle something first

With feet like lead, he trudges to his classroom and waits in agony for lunch break to arrive.

When the lunch break bell finally chimes like a death rattle and he makes his way to the second gymnasium, a girl with charcoal black hair just past her shoulders is already there, bangs brushing past her eyebrows as she jostles to attention at Kageyama’s arrival. She’s conventionally attractive, in the same way that Shimizu is, all soft features and wide-eyed innocence. If he were Nishinoya or Tanaka, he’d be grovelling at her feet in delight. 

But he isn’t them, and he feels nothing except uneasiness crumpling under his skin and up his spine as he approaches.

When he sees the gut-curling look of hope in her eyes, he hesitates; it’s the same haunting look he’s seen in his own eyes when he stares into the mirror, the image of flaming orange hair burning in the back of his mind. He’s going to puke.

What was her name again? He racks his brain for an answer but to no avail. 

He thinks better than to check the letter in his pocket he’d received that morning and settles for pressing his lips together awkwardly, waiting for her to break the uncomfortable silence. 

“Kageyama-san, I’m Ozawa Aimi from the girls’ volleyball team and I-I’ve always admired you!” she says, eyes squeezed shut when she takes a bow. “Please go out with me!”

Awkwardly, he scratches the back of his neck. God, he can never get used to letting people down easy. “Uh, Ozawa, was it? I–”

The dull thud of a volleyball from behind interrupts him before he can finish. When he swivels his head around, all he catches is a flash of orange and a worn-down volleyball lying in its wake. _Shit, why did he come here?_ This was the last thing he needed happening right now. Panic rises in his throat.

Desperate to go after his partner, he quickly turns to the girl to offer an explanation, _any explanation_ so he can finish what exactly he came here for in the first place. But then he locks eyes with her, watches as anxiety and apprehension pulls her lips into a small frown, and in a sudden bout of honesty, tells her, “I’m sorry but I like someone else."

Her eyes widen in slight surprise before crinkling when she smiles in realisation, and it’s a smile so genuine it makes his heart ache. “I see. It’s Hinata-san, isn’t it?”

It’s surprising, to say the least, how she’d been able to piece everything together in the split instant that Hinata had dashed and Kageyama had fallen apart right in front of her, how her words were enough to encapsulate every single feeling he’d felt from the very beginning of this whole mess. 

_It’s Hinata, isn’t it?_

Before this, he might’ve lowered his eyes and vehemently shook his head no. Before this, he would’ve done anything to get rid of any of the unnecessary feelings he had for his best friend. Before this, he was a coward.

This time, he smiles, more determined than ever. “Yeah, it’s always been Hinata.” 

And he takes off.

-

When Kageyama eventually finds Hinata crouching under a tree near the track and field, the boy is hunched over a piece of paper and so bent on tearing the shreds of paper in his hand that he doesn’t even notice Kageyama approaching until he’s right in front of him.

“Hinata.”

The poor boy almost jumps out of his skin at that, the papers falling to the grass below him. It’s only when he jerks his head back in surprise that Kageyama registers with a jolt that his eyes are red against his faint eyebags and his cheeks are stained with streaks of tears. The last time he made an expression like that, Kageyama had sworn never to let him cry ever again and now here he was, literally the cause of it all once again, even if he doesn’t really know why exactly. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest.

There is a split second of realisation that _oh, Kageyama’s standing right before him_ before Hinata buries his head into his sleeves and yells, “Go away, Kageyama! Isn’t your girlfriend waiting for you?”

Kageyama squats in front of him, hesitant as he extends a hand to fold his fingers into Hinata’s hair, careful as he handles the situation like he’s approaching a small animal. When Hinata freezes under his touch, he’s almost afraid he’ll smack his hand away and make a run for it. Small animals were never really his forte.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he replies softly.

“Okay, I get it! You rejected her! You’re popular too! Leave me alone!” Hinata continues, his yells muffled by his sleeve, even if he doesn’t shy away from Kageyama’s touch. If anything, he seems to relax into it.

But his words only leave Kageyama more and more confused. “I rejected her but–”

“You don't need to tell me. I _saw_ , okay? She’s pretty and slim and– and you _still_ rejected her. What chance does a dumbass like me stand, right? Isn’t that what you wanted me to see?” Hinata’s yell melts into a miserable whimper, as if the last of his resolve just dissipated into thin air.

 _Huh?_ With that, the gears and cogwheels in Kageyama’s brain finally begin shifting for the first time they’ve done so in the past month. 

_“Do love letters make you happy?”_

_“Yeah, they do. But nothing compares to the feeling of hitting a toss from Kageyama.”_

Oh.

He sits back onto the grass as the truth of the situation at long last dawns on him and gravity weighs down on him. All this time, Hinata’s been giving and giving and _giving_ and he’s just been receiving and receiving and _receiving_ every nip of affection from his best friend, drinking it all in and keeping it all for himself. It didn’t matter that Hinata had never noticed Kageyama staring at the back of his head during practice, because he is nothing like Kageyama, he wears his heart on his sleeve, he doesn’t mask any of his guileless feelings. He hides his “I love you”s in his actions and Kageyama had always turned a blind eye to them because of his own selfishness and paranoia.

“Say something, Kageyama!” The desperation in Hinata’s voice derails his train of thoughts and brings the anguish of his face back into focus.

“I’m sorry, I never knew. I didn’t even know she was going to confess today, I even told you to come later,” is all he manages to scrape out of his throat.

“I don’t want your fucking pity, Kageyama!” Hinata roars, finally slapping Kageyama’s away. “I just want to forget about my feelings! I just want to play volleyball with you without feeling like you’ve ripped out my chest and stomped all over it! All this time, I’ve been trying to get closer to you, trying to get better at volleyball so I can stand on the court with you as your equal, dumbass!

“I left my phone at home today and I came early to the gym with every intention to tell you about my feelings, only to find you with another girl,” – his voice cracks and with it, so does his facade – “is this because you found me with Fuji-kun by the school? Is this revenge?”

Kageyama’s body acts before his mind does, arms wrapping around the smaller boy’s body and pulling it into his own, hands curling around the nape of Hinata’s neck and tucking it into his shoulder. Hinata’s entire body turns rigid in his embrace. 

“You really are a dumbass to think I would do anything like that to you. I-I don’t want you to forget about your feelings yet,” Kageyama whispers pleadingly and his voice bleeds with so much yearning he himself is a little surprised when it escapes him. “ _Please_.”

Where Hinata had initially resisted against him, he finally relents and entwines his arms around Kageyama, only to choke back a sob and murmur, “You’re so selfish, Kageyama. And you’re always making me cry. Let me hate you for a bit.”

The three words Kageyama’s always wanted to say to Hinata threaten to spill out in a sappy badly-written sonnet but he resists the gut-wrenching urge to do so and reaches back to pull out a now-crumpled letter he’d tucked into his back pocket that morning. Call it symbolism or something, he doesn’t care. A love letter had started this mess, it is only out of obligation that he ends it as such. 

He breaks away from the hug and pushes the nondescript letter into Hinata’s hands, who accepts it and scrutinises it in a way that makes Kageyama’s skin crawl with self-consciousness, though he doesn’t open the letter to read it. He expects Hinata to cross his arms and chew him out, or smile like the sun and lean back into another hug, just not:

“Stupid Kageyama. You just had to steal my thunder too,” he mutters, reaching to pick up the scraps of paper on the grass, now moist with morning dew, and emptying them into Kageyama’s hands unceremoniously. “There’s mine.”

When Kageyama realises that what he’s clutching in his hands are the remnants of what should’ve been a love letter from Hinata, he smiles despite himself. “You could always just write another one for me.”

“This is all that stupid Tsukishima’s fault. I shouldn’t have written you a stupid letter after all.”

Ah, so he’d tampered with the situation on Hinata’s side as well. Trust Tsukishima to take matters like this into his own hands and fuck it all up. Well, whatever, inside that icy cold exterior of his, he must have meant well.

“Eh? Just write me another letter. You’ve received so many, you should know how to write one.”

“I don’t wanna. My letter was short anyway, so I’ll just tell you what I wrote.”

When Hinata leans in, the golden flecks in his eyes burning brighter than the sun itself, the rim around them red and puffy from crying, the beginning of a smile playing on his chapped pink lips, Kageyama’s heart stops in his chest. 

“I love you, Kageyama.”

-

In retrospect, Kageyama should’ve known from the very beginning.

Hinata Shouyou is, in all senses of the word, attractive.

He is attractive in a way that would only appeal to horny adolescent boys at the height of puberty. Hinata Shouyou was built to be loved by boys.

But ever since the start, ever since they’d locked eyes that fateful day in junior high with nothing but a volleyball net and the weight of the world between them, Hinata had only ever had eyes for one person on the court. This has always been their story, and Hinata Shouyou has only ever been built only to love one boy.

And if the lips pressed gently against his underneath the tree by the track and field are any indication, that boy is Kageyama Tobio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope that hinata doesn't seem too ooc or that the story moves too quickly towards the end... feedback is always appreciated!
> 
> i had originally planned on having kageyama walk in on daichi and suga kissing but after some thought, i decided i just really wanted to toy around with the idea of our fellow first-years being the ones to give advice (albeit shitty) for a change!
> 
> also if kageyama seems bipolar or something it’s because i projected my shitty teenage feelings onto him and called it a day
> 
> in any case, thank you for giving my first haikyuu work a read! :D and follow me on twitter @shuoyos for brainrot!


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